Where'd you go?
by OfObscureInklings88
Summary: England must prove himself - to the world, and himself. contains an OC, of which i own nothing but


"_Arthur!_"

Lane was running after them, not caring that her meticulously braided blonde hair was coming undone. Everyone else ignored her but he stopped, looking over his shoulder. A few bumped into him, less to be rude and more to urge him onwards; it would be easier if he just left. But that wasn't his nature, nor his style. His face actually brightened at the sight of her.

"Arthur – what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Lane restrained herself from screaming, balling her trembling hands into fists. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he'd left a note or something – _anything_ to tell her that she was leaving. But no; instead she had to hear it secondhand, and that hurt her more than the fact that he was leaving at all.

"You… you got your chance to prove yourself, but I haven't had mine yet. I want to prove to them that I can handle this." His voice was even, but held conviction. Her hand twitched despite herself. "That was purely coincidental – you don't have to prove anything, damn it!" He took one of her hands in his – a bad move, on his part. Little Miss Lane wasn't exactly in the mood for hand-holding. She shoved him away roughly, slapping him upside the head. He looked at her, his face set and serious.

"Lane, I just want to show them that I'm the right man for the job…" "It's not a bloody job, you idiot! It's love; fucking love! You don't have to show anyone anything!" she was screaming now, at the top of her lungs. She didn't care who heard. Arthur bit his lip; he knew this would happen, which was why he'd tried to leave as quietly as he could in the first place, but apparently someone had blabbed. Lane had always been weird about 'proving' people things. He started to panic, knowing the group wouldn't wait up for him forever.

He swallowed, wishing she hadn't turned around so he could look her in the eyes. "Elaine… this may be my last chance to prove that I…" She cut him off "Do you have any idea what they're going to do to you? You'll be eaten alive – or worse!" "What, you honestly don't believe I can do it? I can handle myself! I was a bloody Empire once you know…" "Once! Past tense! In the past! Not anymore!" He yelled back "Yeah, I know – I need to prove that I'm still as strong as I've ever been, that I'm still strong enough – _worthy_ enough to protect you! Because that's what you do when you love someone – you protect them!" "I'm just trying to protect you – from yourself." She muttered, though she knew from the beginning that it was a lost cause. The problem was, he didn't know she knew that. He had gone in teeth gritted, prepared for battle; now he stormed away, genuinely hurt, thinking that the person he loved the most, the person he was bloody doing all of this for, had no faith in him.

Lane sat at the local bar, tugging her hair out of its braid. She ordered a scotch, but as the bartender was getting it for her she felt bitter tears sliding down her cheeks. Cursing, she tried in vain to wipe them away. As the stress bled off so did the tension keeping her wound up, allowing her to hold in all of her feelings and emotions. This was one of her secrets – that it wasn't until after the fights that she cried. But she was glad, because he never saw her crying, therefore he never knew he made her cry, and she liked it that way. The bartender set her glass down, eying her damp eyes.

"Rough night?" Lane wipe her eyes again, sniffling but taking a sip of the scotch graciously. "He's gone – he went off to 'prove' himself, the damn bastard. He's going to get himself killed. Even if he comes back alive, his pride will have taken a good beating." She waved her hand "I'll never understand men." The bartender chuckled. Him and Lane went way back – they'd known each other since before she'd even met Arthur; back when she was still using fake IDs and screwing whatever sorry son of a bitch happened to walk through the door. Of course, he'd never known the full story, but he was happy to see that she was getting her life together.

Well, as together as she could get it, being engaged to Arthur and all. Now there was a character. In terms of booze, Lane seemed able to hold an endless amount, whereas the bloody fool Arthur could practically get drunk off half a glass of wine. But god-forbid he ever drink wine. No, he preferred rum and other hard liquors, even though he knew he'd have hell to pay in the morning. Again, bloody fool.


End file.
